Aruarian Dance
by DigisoulWings
Summary: Yamato is a patient at a metal hospital, who has a disorder where he hears music in his head. Taichi is a social worker who gets assigned Yamato. A bond forms between patient and caretaker. - Mental Hospital AU / TaiTo [Written with Cyclone5000]
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Aruarian Dance**

 **Paring:TaiTo**

 **AU: Mental Hospital AU**

* * *

It never stopped, the ticking was there and it made him draw inward, to the point where he was deemed 'mentally unstable'. The word meant nothing to him, the only thoughts in his head were of what he'd hear today, and the day after. Blond hair bobbed to the crick of his neck as the white garbed male sat against the wall, a pillow beneath his legs.

Constant was the strain of sound, even when there was none, and it was quiet. Everything could create a stream of melody, and he heard it all, such things were more a curse than anything. He had hard times being normal, and trying to fit in. He'd been into the Arts, mostly painting, and even went to college years before this all came to bear fruit. Horrible sour fruit, hanging from a rotting tree.

His condition affected his daily functions, and family soon pushed him toward the open arms and secure rooms of the Mental Hospital. He had no choice, but he did indeed choose. He had wanted to be taken, to a place where nothing could disturb him, and the music he heard every day.

His room was quite spacious, it had the spare things needed. There was a bathroom off to the left; a bare and thin mattress, but no table in the room. For a Hospital room befitting the clinically diagnosed, Ishida Yamato was given space. Enough to do what he wanted, and cause no issues with staff or himself. However, there were points when the hallucinations became so difficult to handle, the patient would lash out to try and receive care, not knowing he had to just ask.

The current Social Worker was named 'Hugh' by Ishida, and the names he gave people were thought up in his own mind, but really had no meaning. He didn't talk to the worker, and the worker didn't speak to him but when needed. Small talk wasn't right, and he was stubborn about it. Though he had a voice, he hated to use it, as he felt it interfered with what he heard in his head, that it would disrupt the flow of his wonderful music. When he did speak, he used words scribbled on paper, and hand signals he had come up with on his own.

–It was here he heard the knock at the door, and saw Hugh sitting up in the chair he had nearby, watching the metal door open. Today, it was loud and screaming sounds making up the music in Ishida's brain, pulsing and making his ears metaphorically ring.

Hugh stood, handed the new guy his board, and left promptly. Blue eyes were watching it all, taking in the exchange of people from his room. He had been writing, on his lap while sitting side by side with his bed, on the floor. The patient liked to be there, close to the ground, his bare feet stuck to the cool tile floor.

As he, the new Worker, said his name quietly, it sounded as if he was yelling, and that hurt. Silently, Yamato stood with the grace of a cat, stable on his feet. He placed a finger to his lips, and stared the guy down. His eyes were almost a cloudy blue, made that way due to all the tests he had been administered, and the things they had put in his body. He could see well enough, but his eyes just had a filmy cover.

The man in the suit said hello, and the blond's face didn't change from his lined lips, but he raised a hand. He waved, a little in greeting. This guy…Yagami Taichi, he was the second Worker Ishida had been given. He had his work cut out for him.

...

Taichi flinched slightly as the patient simply stood up and held a finger to his lips. He was a tiny bit peeved to be fair; it was like a librarian was scolding him for talking when all he was doing was whispering quietly.

He got the message, closing his mouth with a small pout. Not used to be in a such a quiet place. All day he had to watch people of all kinds talk and interact. That was his job, to get them to do more than just sit around all day. He would make them talk about the things they liked so they'd feel excitement. He'd bring up a new game every day so the patients would begin to start looking forward to waking up. Taichi made sure to make them speak and to listen as they talked. Noise brought their minds from the walls that trapped them.

So being in such a noiseless place was off tempo with Taichi. It felt strange, and his voice wanted to bubble up.

He waved back as the Ishida waved at him. Blinking his large almond shaped eyes a bit as he was unsure how to go through and finish an introduction without speaking.

He looked at his clipboard and saw the papers underneath his check-in sheet. Oh. Writing.

With a click of his pen and shuffling of his papers, Taichi quickly scribbled out the words he wanted to say. before flipping the clipboard over.

[And you're Ishida Yamato. Is there anything specific you want me to address you as?]

...

Watching, waiting, that was mostly what Ishida was doing as the worker scribbled on the many papers he had been given. His bare feet were frigid and smooth along the tile floor. It was as if he could skate across it, dancing and swaying to a tune no one else could hear.

His eyes followed the movement of the writing utensil across the blank sheets of paper he had been given, Yamato's own scribbled on and strewn about his feet on the floor. He was careful not to wrinkle any of his works and stepped lightly across to the Worker. Taichi-san.

The bolsterous sounds in his head that day marked that something great would happen, and there it was, standing smack in front of the blond's pale, plainly clad body. Yagami Taichi was that 'something great'. Though the patient knew not why, he never questioned anything he heard and felt from the music. It was not an option.

As the man finished writing, he couldn't tell that Ishida was right in front of him, cloudy eyes staring straight at his face, about unblinking. His lips hung open a tiny bit, his teeth slightly dripping with saliva. He didn't smile, didn't change his face.

Ishida simply looked at Taichi, then at the clipboard, procuring his own blue pen from a pocket and scribbling against the paper.

{ _Ishida is fine. Do you like Music? What kinds do you hear in your head_? }

...

"!" Taichi wasn't expecting the patient to be _that_ close all of a sudden. The gasp was bitten back due to Taichi's impulse to act. But the subconscious innate bravery is what stopped him from jumping back and instead, or better yet rather, blink more soon than usual.

He was still technically green when it came to being a social worker. But in his experience of working here he knew that all mental health patients had a pattern. After spending a few days with them, he could figure out their pattern of thinking and then match his to accommodate their needs while still being firm enough to guide them to a better standard. It's why he was so damn good at this job.

Ishida's stare was obstinate. It held the look of a mentally ill patient sure, but Taichi had the notion that he wasn't dumb. Far from it actually, he felt like the patient was just as capable as him. Intelligent enough unlike a few others that wouldn't understand the importance of the basics. Curious unlike how some patients just lacked that process altogether.

He was fine.

Just…obsessed to the point of insanity?

If that was the right terminology.

Figuring out this pattern was gonna be a challenge.

Taichi read the statement Ishida wrote on the paper. His first instinct was to reply back, but the direct eye contact reminded him not to. Inwardly he thought it was a time waster, but he clicked his pen and wrote a reply.

[K then Ishida it is. Well. Yeah. I like music. Though I don't really hear it in my head.]

Taichi paused. Looking up from his paper through the shutter of his eyelashes before making an adjustment.

[K then Ishida it is. Well. Yeah I like music. Though I don't really hear it in my head. What I hear isn't as important than what is playing in your head. Are you listening to music right now? What kind?]

...

The smile that crossed the patient's face was huge. Enough to fill the room with infectious happiness. Gripping his sides, he shook in silent laughter, and bounced back to his seat upon the floor, on the balls of his feet.

He was happy.  
That Taichi-san liked music.  
That he was interested in Yamato's music.

He was being noticed.  
And that made him feel good.

And the grin stayed plastered as he scribbled in crayon on some leaflets of pages, pushing them across the floor at the worker.

 _{ You like music! I'm happy, so much.}_  
 _{ Today, it was foretelling you coming here. How funny it was that we met like this. }_ _  
_ _{ I hear loud screaming of singing, and Thunder of drums. Powerful music to hear. }_

One final page was slid over.

 _{ When I look at you, my stomach feels like there are tons of Butterflies inside. Is that bad? }_

...

Taichi stood where he was as Yamato bounced back to his bed. His lips curved into a small smile as he was infected by the innocence in Yamato's happiness. He didn't know what he did, or what the other watcher before him was doing. But the sudden shift in energy was welcome in his book.

Taichi picked up the pages that was being slid over toward him. As he read he noted the difference in writing. He figured some scholar would analyze how the crayon was more youthful in comparison to the structured penwork. But he stopped himself from getting that far. He was just a middle man, trying to keep him safe while getting him used to human interaction. The psychiatrist could figure that out.

Speaking of which…

Taichi flipped over toward the page that kept the patient's time table. They still had time before his scheduled appointment with one of the doctors here.

Flipping the papers back he was going to write a note for his job's sake. But stopped once he got the last page.

Taichi looked up. Directly this time as he lifted his head away from the clipboard. Ishida was sitting on the bed almost eager to hear his reply.

Oh yeah.

This was definitely going to be a challenge.

Taichi didn't know exactly what Yamato had meant by that statement. But it's not like it could be anything serious. There was a wall between them and knocking down the bricks came with a price…

Taichi smiled back at Yamato.

But. It was too soon to dictate that. It probably an innocent statement like how he was currently feeling that's all. Hah, it wasn't like it was the first time Taichi made someone's heart flutter anyway.

He clipped that last leaflet on top of the others, sitting down in the chair in front of Ishida as he wrote down a reply.

[Well. It's flattering that's for sure. But it's not necessarily bad. Though. I have a question. What do you mean foretelling? Who told you?]

Taichi asked out of curiosity. He was told that Ishida heard music in his head, but nothing else besides that. Ishida was smitten with music, but he wanted to know just why that was.

...

The cheerful blond rocked a bit on the mattress, his feet hanging just above the ground, and his thin fingers gripping the edge of the fabric. His gaze was drawn back to Taichi's hand as he wrote a reply. His hands were nice.

The Butterflies were still there, but it kind of tickled, so he was glad he got told it wasn't bad. They were good Butterflies.

As he read the next question, Ishida twisted his head, and shook it a little, blond locks falling in his eyes. They blinked pale hues at Taichi, and he leaned to grasp a scrap of clean paper and rolled his pen in his hand.

The question. It wasn't right.  
There was no one in his head, just music. Only words, and singing. No people.

 _{ No one told me. The music changes everyday. I don't control, I just hear it.}_

...

Taichi noticed the change in writing utensil. He couldn't place why but he felt a bit off as Yamato used the pen.

Associating certain things with patients wasn't abnormal considering the job. But Taichi disliked it all the same. He didn't like being so influenced that a patient above all else would make him feel a certain way.

So like he'd give in just like that.

[It's just a question Ishida.]

Taichi chose his words carefully. Ishida was still 'unpredictable' and for the sake of his reputation, he needed to get a handle on him fast.

[But. This is our first day. I'll only ask what you feel comfortable answering okay? I promise.]


	2. Chapter 2

Rolling the pen in his hands, he ran fingers along the tip where the ink flowed, and dirtied his skin blue. He didn't really like what the man wrote back, and his face twisted into a sullen frown.

The music was deafening for some reason, the metal screams becoming distorted and whines taking their place. It scared him. A lot. Blood was pressing at his skull and brain, he felt dizzy a little.

Though still, he read all else Taichi wrote, and nodded in recognition, before curling up on the bed, and placing his hands over his ears. He could hear the music, louder than before, thrumming in his ears, and it almost hurt. – in short, Yamato was experiencing a tension headache while hearing music, a trifle of a combo, and one to completely make the blond about shut down as he lay on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut.

...

Taichi sighed as Yamato laid down on his bed. He was still upset obviously, but Taichi wasn't going to come running with a pacifier in hand.

He sat in his chair. Rolling the pen between his fingers like a pendulum as Yamato further cuddled himself on the mattress.

He flipped through the rest of the papers. Figuring that Yamato needed a moment to himself. He tired to read something that would give him more an idea of what this guy was capable of…but the SW before him hardly wrote anything down. How helpful was that.

He looked up, mentally noting down the pained look on Ishida's face. Normally he'd ask what was wrong but he couldn't talk. He couldn't write it down cause Yamato didn't look to be in a reading mood.

Well. Doing something was better than nothing at all.

Taich put the clipboard down on the chair. Moving toward the built in cupboard that was safety proofed all the way over itself. Searching a bit in the drawers he found a small wash cloth. He technically wasn't supposed to let Yamato out his sight, so he just used the safety pitcher of water to dampen the cloth slightly.

Partially wet, Taichi folded it to a small rectangle, holding it out for Yamato. He hummed just barely to get his attention, as he held out the cool cloth to him.

...

It hurt. So much so that his eyes begun to tear up as he held them shut and rocked on the mattress. It needed to stop. The whines of the now distorted music in his head only made his aching worse.

A headache was horrible.

Over the garbled mess in his head and the blood pressing at his skull, he heard a soothing noise.  
Water.

Where – oh.  
He recalled his own pitcher near the bathroom, every so often he'd get a drink.

He didn't want to open his eyes.  
The light in the room would hurt, seeing things would hurt.

A noise.  
Like music, softly projected at him.  
Yamato opened a crack and saw the worker, with a washcloth in hand.  
The thing that would help him through.

Fingers uncupped an ear, and clamped upon the damp cloth, noticing the water. There was where it had gone.

Slowly, he pressed it to his forehead, still curled in a half ball on the bed. He didn't want to move anymore. The cool feeling of the water felt nice, and it took a few moments before the thrumming of blood began to subside.

...

Taichi sighed when he took the wash cloth. Going back to his chair where he tried to get as comfortable as he possible could in it.

Sitting a few feet from a bed ridden patient was what he was expecting when he first entered in the room. But after the flamboyant preview he got to witness, suddenly he wasn't too keen on just being the bed watcher anymore.

Ishida Yamato. From a few minutes of dealing with him he got a general gist of him. Pen was bad. When Ishida was feeling down, unsure, or anything of the sort he used a pen to write. Crayon was good. If he was feeling happy, excited he couldn't sit still as he scribbled his feelings down.

One question flew by after the other. Was there any other writing utensil he used? What did they mean? How long had he been like this?

What did his own voice sound like?

Well. First things first.

He was just a social worker right now. So he'd do what had to be done first.

...

Laying there, washcloth against his forehead, the bedraggled blond slowly uncurled himself, and shifted to his back, opening his lips in a soundless sigh. Hands hung down the sides of the bed, fingers limp as the dull blues stared at the ceiling.

It helped.  
Felt good, and he had Taichi to thank.

Then again, he was there to watch Yamato.

Turning forward onto his side, hands clawed at the mattress to sit up, waving his body back and forth as he sat for a moment.

Yamato had to pee. Scrambling from the bed like a dancer, the blond skipped over a few paces for the toilet. Leaving the door cracked as always, he twirled inside, and hiked up his garment. After peeing, he made sure to wash up, and lathered a bit too long with the soap while the water was running.

He looked in the small mirror above the white sink, and his eyes widened. He looked ghostly, ugly rings over his eyes, and his face seemed to pale, he hated it.

The music suddenly changed, to something like Classical, with voices, something Opera. He could about imagine a play, though he had never seen one. His fingers were still soapy, and he kept staring at his reflection.

It needed to be normal again. He couldn't handle the change in his features, not now. Hot tears pricked at his eyes as he rubbed them – not a good idea, they were covered in soap.

It burned, oh dear god it burned furiously.

He had soap in his eyes, seeing was truly something hard as he squinted and backed out of the bathroom, tripping and falling back against the floor. The patient rolled around there on the floor, eyes streaming with tears and a horrible feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

...

"—he—!" Taichi was about to talk but suddenly shut himself up (as per the rules that were established).

He was supposed to keep his eyes on Yamato for all hours of the day. That included even the bathroom business too.

Tucking the clipboard under his arm, Taichi jumped out of his seat to go follow Yamato towards the closeted bathroom. Though somehow within that tiny period of time, Yamato had already managed to hurt himself.

"…shit." Taichi tossed the clipboard aside. His boss was gonna be _maaaad_ at him.

Yamato kept crying against the floor. Not caring for whether or not he was one for personal contact Taichi grabbed him so that most of the patient's body weight could be carried by him. Carefully he leaned him against the adjacent wall, having him slide down toward the ground in a more safe sitting posture.

Going back in the bathroom to grab a towel and dabbing it with water, he came back to where he left Yamato sitting. Moving his hands away from his face and cleaning the soap off of the thin fingers first, before rubbing his eyes and face clean with smooth gentle swipes.

Taichi was a little ticked of. Didn't Yamato know that he couldn't just ignore procedures like this? What the hell did his previous caretakers let him get away with?

Whatever. So long as he held Yamato's file under his check list. He was gonna have to take care better care of him.

"You can't do that." Taichi spoke out even if Yamato wouldn't have liked it, "I'm going where ever you are going from now on. Got it?"

...

Feeling himself being lifted, he squirmed in Taichi's grip.  
His eyes still burned furiously with the soap in them. By God they burned. Feeling his body set down, he pressed back against the wall, almost scared more from the contact so suddenly than the pain in his eyes.

Blaring crashes of Cymbals filled the blond's ears, and the roaring of drums. Another play, a tragedy this time, loud scores and opera.

The fact that the worker was helping, showed dedication. The blond could be troublesome at times, and this was indeed one of those moments.

Water was the sensational thing he felt on his skln. The clean scent of his fingers, face and then eyes. Blue weak hues blinking a little, adjusting to the sting. They still hurt, but he'd recover.

But then – Taichi spoke, his voice almost like nails upon a board, and Yamato covered his ears and looked about disgusted at the worker. Though he knew what was said, and nodded, a little, shying back against the wall, almost trying to flatten himself in an effort to get away.

...

Taichi bit back his malice. He felt like he was some kindergarten teacher with a student that refused to abide by the rules of the playground. It wasn't a feeling that was exactly uncommon. Most of the patients in the ward had child like mind sets that Taichi carefully had to manevuer. With most he acted like the 'cool best friend'. Providing more freedom than the other social workers and allowing the patients to do basically anything that didn't bring emmient harm to them. It was a tactic he used to become well liked among the patients in the ward. Everyone listened to him the first time cause they wanted too, not because they felt that they had too.

But Ishida Yamato. He'd been cooped up all alone for way too long.

Due to the severity of his sensitivity. The other social workers must have just let him do what he wanted because that was easier.

Now that bothered Taichi.

After all. The workers here weren't just babysitters. They were charged with the responbility to help these people deal with their mental ailments so that they could go back out in the world. The controlled enviroments were to provide safety to help others grow at their own pace.

Simply letting Yamato do what he wanted…that' wasn't helping him.

That was just leading him to believe that staying in this room forever was okay.

Tch. Of course. No wonder Taichi's boss gave him this file. There was no way Taichi was just gonna let this slide by like the rest.

He kept quiet. Kneeling down in front of Yamato and waiting for him to look up on his own accord.

Taichi pointed at himself, then with the same finger placed it over his lips. He ended that gesture with a small nod. Then he pointed at Yamato, using the same finger to point at his ear, then back to himself.

Taichi would keep quiet if Yamato would listen to him.

It should have been obvious already. But with seeing as this is both new to both of them, it felt right to lay this out.

...

He would have a follower now. The worker would be something of a shadow for Yamato, a nice, _quiet_ shadow.

Picking up his head, he found Taichi was still directly in front of his face, knelt down to his level. What was– He was pointing…making signs.  
Good.  
Yamato liked that.

But then…  
The way he did a motion to Yamato then at his own ear….  
Did he–  
No. It wouldn't happen. His own voice was worse than anyone else's, because it reverberated turly different in his head.

Shaking his head no, he curled back against the wall, bringing his knees up.

...

Well Taichi didn't expect the patient to agree with him right away. The childish nature could be considered cute if he weren't so prickly.

Yamato would have to start following some rules. He couldn't get away doing whatever he wanted anymore.

Taichi made the same motion again, signalling Yamato to listen to him. After that was finished, Taichi slightly raised his eyebrows, using eye contact as saying 'or else'.

Taichi pointed to himself, then raised the same hand and flapped his fingers like his palm was a hinge. Inverbally motioning that he would start talking if Yamato didn't concur.

To edge it up a little, Taichi opened his mouth in a 'ah' circle, as if he was going to start saying something.

His mouth opened in a yelp of silence, and he shut his lips after a moment and shook his head quickly, getting to his feet from against the wall. He'd be good and listen, he would be a good boy.

Much like before he got admitted.  
Having to act the part and do it shamefully.  
But this time, Yamato would be perfect as could be.

He didn't want to hear any talking, the music he currently heard was something lovely, though every so often he heard cymbals and it was like Thunder, which only made him more on edge.

...

Good.

Actually. Really good.

It was a tiny baby step, but for whatever reason it felt monumental. Taichi didn't have any reason to feel so victorious no matter how he thought about it. But it still bubbled forth to a cheery smile. The transition was natural enough to be mistaken for a warm look of bliss. Taichi did have a knack of pulling off smiles well.

He didn't talk as promised. But in the midst of naturalness, Taichi patted Yamato's shoulder in an affectionate pat, his hand sliding away so gently his fingertips barely brushed passed Yamato's neck. He had a habit of being hands on. Usually for the job he paid extra attention to being hands-off. But this was a slip up.

Oh well. Nothing could be done at this point.

Taichi nodded in approval, glancing back to Yamato's bed and his own chair where they were previously arranged.

...

His smile, it was nice…  
Yamato liked the worker's–Taichi-san's smile. It was enough of a stopper to make the blond halt where he was as the hand came down on a bony shoulder, and fingertips drew up his neck slightly.

A shiver was pulled from his body due to that, and his blue eyes closed a moment, to listen to the music, and press his hands to the wall.

When he opened his eyes, standing up straight again, he saw the other glance toward where they had been before…did he want things back to normal? When was it ever normal with Yamato?

Licking his lips, he padded back to the bed, sitting on it as he drew his knees close, waiting for the worker to come back to his chair.

...

Taichi's hand was holding one corner of the clipboard. Holding it up at an angle by pressing it down in his thighs, he continued jotting down his notes. He wasn't the best with hospital jargon, so a lot of the sentences were crossed out and rewritten. But that was an issue for the psychiatrist to deal with and not Taichi's problem.

He pulled down the sleeve of his propped up arm. Checking his watch for the time. Going just off of that, his shift was about to end. In reality, Taichi's shift ended whenever the next guy would show up and grabbed the clipboard.

Peaking up over his work, Yamato was lying down flat just staring up. It'd definitely be easier to watch him but admittedly a little more boring. At least with the other patients Taichi could make small talk or play games with them. Here it was just quiet on top of silence on top of inaudible noises.

Finishing the period of his last sentence. Taichi folded back his paperwork and grabbed a hold of one of the blank pages scooted behind the official documents.

 _[My shift is almost over. Anything else you want to tell me before I leave?]_

He folded the paper backwards so what he had written was still visible. He placed it on the edge of Yamato's bed by leaning over before he settled back in his chair.

...

The blond was engrossed in staring at the markings littering the tiles above, not even realizing the man shift over to the bed, placing a paper on the sheet before going back to sit down.

What Yamato also failed to grasp, was that with Taichi writing on his papers— it meant that he'd soon depart from the room, and another stranger would take his place.

Lazing and turning to face Yagami, his eyes finally spied the note, picking it up in light fingers, his gaze scanning it before reaching down to grab his Blue pen off the floor.

 _[ I'm going to miss you — You treat me better than the others ]_

With the final etch of his characters into the paper, he leaned over his bed, tumbling out, and moved toward Yagami. Stopping in front of him, the blond laid the paper down on the clipboard and danced back to his bed, but stayed standing.

...

Taichi didn't move as Yamato wrote out a response. However he did inwardly amuse himself at how the patient moved to give him the message. Everything this guy did was dramatic, even gettin gup and walking two steps had to be ever so poised and elegant. Like a conductor in the middle of his concert.

Maybe such a grandeur style of action suited someone who suffered from musical hallucinogens.

Taichi read the note. Seeing the simple words with crossed t's and dotted i's carry more weight than the paper could hold. It wasn't strange for a patient to get attached to Taichi. In this ward, Taichi was one of more likable ones with his easy charisma and activeness. But treating him better? On Taichi's side of things, he did little to nothing special towards Yamato.

It got him curious. Though he knew he wouldn't have enough time to get all of his curiosity satiated.

[ _You'll see me tomorrow as well. But what about me is so different than the others?_ ]

Taichi handed Yamato the note. He wasn't expecting anything in particular, he was just wondering.


End file.
